


Punk Points

by SapphoIsBurning



Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Politics, Punk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-17
Updated: 2017-08-17
Packaged: 2018-12-16 10:00:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11826384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SapphoIsBurning/pseuds/SapphoIsBurning
Summary: Becky interrupts Sami's workout because, well, fuck nazis.





	Punk Points

**Author's Note:**

> This is more of me projecting my angst onto characters but I feel like it's pretty in-character.

"Sami, what are you doing?" Becky asked, looking up.

"What does it look like," Sami grunted, his arms tucked close to his body as he hung from the chin-up bar.

"It looks like you're crying and exercising," Becky said.

Sami's body dropped and he hung from his arms. "I am crying and exercising."

"Why?" Becky sat down on a weightlifting bench and threaded some weights onto the squat rack.

"Because fuck Nazis, that's why," Sami said. He swung, pulled his body up, held himself, red faced and red-eyed, and then let go. He dropped to the floor and braced his hands on his knees. He wiped his eye on his sleeve. "Want me to spot you?"

"Like, can I just hug you instead?" Becky asked. She put down the weights and stood up.

Sami pressed his lips together. "I'm fine."

"None of us are fine, Sami," she said.

He slumped a little, some of his momentum ebbing away. As Becky put her arms out, he half-fell into them, squeezing her hard.

"They kill people," Sami said. "They’re killing people all the time. They killed people in Quebec and people have already forgotten about it." He smushed his face into Becky's sweatshirt. “People are dying in Syria. Everything is so fucked.”

"You're doing everything you can," Becky said, rocking her friend back and forth.

"Am I?"

"Sami for Syria's going pretty well," she said. "Everybody knows how you feel. Nobody's out there thinking Sami Zayn's going to go along with their nazi bullshit. You're getting a message out there--what is it? To resist despair in this world is what it means to be free?"

He nodded. “It’s Operation Ivy,” he said.

"I know,” Becky smiled. “We're old punks," Becky said. "It's different from being young and punk, you know?"

Sami pulled back and straightened his tee shirt, running his hands through his hair. "Yeah," he said. "I remember seeing people like me at shows and thinking they were impossibly old and cool."

"The ones with the stick and poke tattoos," Becky said.

"Major punk points," Sami laughed.

"Fuck." Becky brushed her hair back from her forehead.

"Like, how many studs could you fit on one fucking denim vest," Sami said.

"Did you ever have one?" Becky asked.

"Nah," Sami said. "I mean I was so uncool, I think the first basement show I went to they thought I was a cop. Like, the dorkiest jeans and worst haircut and everything." He looked around the hotel gym. There was no one else around waiting to use any of the equipment, so he sat down on the butterfly machine.

"I'm sure you charmed them, just like everyone else," Becky said.

"I stood around like a fucking loser until I realized a bunch of guys who were arguing were actually talking about Star Trek," Sami said. "I broke up the fight. I think it was about Wrath of Khan."

"You're kidding me," Becky said.

"I swear," Sami said. "And, like, punks love wrestling, at least in fucking Montreal and like Philly. You could always get somebody yelling about Macho Man or whatever. I miss it," he said like he was just realizing it.

"It was a little different in Dublin," Becky said. "Things were more political. But. There was still fun to be had."

"Did you ever have a band?" Sami asked.

"Oh, you never heard of the Lass Kickers?" Becky asked, wide-eyed.

"No way," Sami said, his eyes lighting up. "Really?"

"Fffff, no way," Becky said. "I was too drunk most of the time."

Sami laughed. "That doesn't stop most people."

"Not you, though," Becky said. "Straight edge for life, right?"

"Something like that," Sami said, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Did you ever have a band, Sami?" Becky asked

"Nah," he said.

"There's still time," she said.

Sami chuckled at that and fiddled with the weights on his machine.

"Do you really want to be working out right now?" Becky asked.

"It burns some anger," Sami said. "It's also kind of our job."

"Let's go be old punks somewhere else," Becky said. "Let's get espresso and hate read the alternative weeklies."

"I always want to go be an old punk somewhere else," Sami said, getting up.

"Would you do it professionally?" Becky asked. "Retire and go own a fucking record store?"

"Oh, man," Sami said. "I mean, I love a record store. A coffee shop. I love that shit but...it's not wrestling. Wrestling is punk enough."

Becky nodded. "Punk points," she said.

Sami held the door open for her. They walked out of the gym and into a drizzling rain. Becky flipped up the hood of her sweatshirt. Sami stared up into it.

"Pretty fucking grim," Sami said.

"It'll get better," Becky said. "It'll have to. Give it time."


End file.
